The only time I get a 'run' at the garden is when Francis takes the kids out on a weekend morning. You might think you could garden with kids playing verdantly around you in a pastoral utopia. Apparently not. Instead they throw muck, complain about it being 'too shiny' and then whinge for TV. Even though Hugh has out-grown Mr Bloom's Nursery (a kids' gardening show) he would rather stay indoors and watch it than, well, actually garden for more than 7 minutes.
So, I know very little about gardening and I'm making it up as I go along. Hence my surprise at the new-onset gardening show in my head. I was mentally narrating to the 'viewers' as I went about each cultivation task. When you cut this bush back, it may look a bit bare but, don't worry, you'll be rewarded with fresh growth next year. I began to take liberties. I'm edging the lawn here with this handy tool, but if you want a really straight line, you should mark it out with string first.
Then I thought about my blog readers too. And I realised that my infrequent blogging rate is directly related to the infrequent daytime head-space. My mind rarely gets a chance to meander. What a good word meander is. Anyway, today my mind enjoyed stretching like a sun-warmed cat, while I stood on a plastic garden chair and lopped at hedges. Such is life on a good day.